Burn Bright
by Sazmuffin
Summary: Dramione. Drabble. ONE CHAPTER.


Author: Sazmuffin

Disclaimer: I own nothing whatsoever.

Title: Burn Bright

Rating: K

Ship: Dramione.

A/N: Just something I came up with. I hope you like reading it just as much as I like writing itt.

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Why does she have to be so beautiful?

It is not the presence of a curvaceous body or an attractive smile that makes someone beautiful. It is the knowledge and care one has for another, void of all prejudice and bias, ignorance and hate.

It's how her hand grips her quill, her fingers curling delicately over the feather. The paleness of her skin contrasts so magnificently with the soot colored pen, it drives me crazy. Her fingernails are bright pink and long, the shape strangely perfect, since she rarely filed them. The dexterity of her hands and the length of her fingers captivated me.

It's how her hair slightly curls into her face as it slides down her shoulders and past her breastbone. The color is so rich and unique; a superior blend of brown and blonde. When she stubbornly shakes it out of her face with a flick of her head, the lighting cascading down onto her cheek. Forgive me for sounding cliche, but she, and she alone, teaches the torches to burn bright.

It's how she can make something so simple as drinking from a goblet seem sensual. Her lips grasp the cup lightly, like a grandmother fondling her lace antiques, with the utmost care and passion. She tilts her head back and exposes her long, taut neck. When she presses her lips together to hold in the delicious liquid, she swallows and I think my eyes have rolled back into my head.

Her head is looking in the other direction, but her eyes are on me. Hidden beneath her long, dark lashes, she stares at me through the stained-glass windows of her eyes. I didn't believe so many shades of brown existed until this moment. She opens her mouth again, showing her wonderfully straight teeth. A knowing glance is hidden the veil created by her lashes, and the smallest hint of a smile tugs at the right corner of her mouth.

I can still remember kissing those beautiful fingers, rubbing them between my own and feeling their warmth on my face. Her hand cupped my cheek and I think I've reached a utopia no one could ever describe. I memorized the soft creases in her palm and how they felt on my own skin, and the size of each finger compared to my own.

I toyed with her hair for hours it seemed, sifting it through my fingers, transferring the cold temperature to my body. It was so soft and smelled so good as it passed through the gaps between my fingers, like children on slides.

My heart was pounding and I felt out of breath, my teeth could not stop chattering. They did that when I was nervous. I placed three of my finger tips on her cheek and my thumb on her lip. Gently, I slid that thumb over her cherry red lips, jumping when I felt her nip slightly at the pad of my thumb. Her lips puckered around my finger, bringing it into her mouth. I slid a hand into her hair at the back of her neck, bringing her closer towards me. The other slung around her waist and brought her against me, her curves pressing against my Slytherin robes.

I lowered my face down to hers, resting my forehead against hers. She nudged my cheek with hers, rubbing her nose against mine. Her lips nipped around my face until I couldn't take it anymore.

With her permission, I titled her head back and took a patch of her beautiful skin into my mouth. Just below her ear, my tongue licked the bright red mark I had just made. A moan came from the back of her throat and she smiled.

Moving my way up to her mouth, I kissed her for what seemed to be an eternity. An eternity of tongue and lips and teeth, meeting all at one point over and over against until she broke away with a long, hard breath.

Her hands gripped at the lapels of my robes, begging me not to go. I gave her one last hug, holding her tightly against my body until I felt I was going to break her bones. When I relaxed, she still clung to me like a toddler still being fed by the breast.

She looked up at me and brushed a platinum blonde lock away from my face, combing it back into my hair. I took her hand and gently kissed her fingers, our eyes meeting. She meant so much to me. She represented a time in my life where I turned to the one person I knew had every chance to hate me, to loathe me with every thread of her heart. She brought me back from the fiery depths of ignorance-led hate, from death and destruction, from the brainwashing I had bore throughout my childhood.

She represented all that I was and all that I ever could be. That's what made her so beautiful to me.


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